Radar had already been home two weeks, and he was still just as exhausted as he was while in Korea. Farming had not been profitable while he was gone, and the bills steadily mounted as the crops failed. The little money he sent home had been helping his family make ends meet, but just barely. But, they never told him how bad it was. At first, it angered him that they would keep it from him, but he realized that there was nothing he could have done from Korea, anyway. So, he got to work repairing broken tractors and mending fences.
The sun had almost disappeared over the horizon when he entered the kitchen. His mother was standing at the stove, busily stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He sniffed the air hungrily as he rifled through the days mail. Mostly bills. He smiled when at the bottom of the stack, he found a letter in Jessie's familiar handwriting. He tucked the letter into his shirt pocket for later.
When he turned around, his mother was watching him closely.
"How's she been doing?" she asked carefully, resuming stirring the pot of soup. Radar sat at the kitchen table and grabbed a roll from the middle of the table. There's one thing he didn't miss about Korea, and that's the food.
"She's alright," he said, munching happily. "From what she been saying, it's been kind of calm."
Mrs. O'Reilly was quiet for a moment. "She seems like a sweet girl," she said, spooning the soup into two bowls. She sat one down in front of her son. "Such a pretty child." His mother had seen the pictures scattered across the house of the two of them. It certainly took a strong woman to step between Walter and a gun like she did. And she knew her son loved Jessie very much,
That's what made what she had to tell him all the more difficult.
"What's wrong, Ma? You're not eating," Radar said, putting down his spoon and watching his mother carefully. The loss of his uncle had made him a little jumpy about his only remaining immediate family member.
Mrs. O'Reilly placed her napkin that was in her lap on the table. "Mr. Braswell stopped by today."
Radar suddenly lost his appetite. "Did he give us an extension on the loan?"
Mrs. O'Reilly shook her head. He had been working so hard since he came home, and she wished it didn't have to be that way for him. "That's not actually why he came by." When Radar looked confused, she continued slowly. "You remember his daughter Maryanne?"
Radar looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. She was always kind of . . .shy." Actually, all he could remember was a gangly-legged girl with stringy hair and huge glasses, often teased and ridiculed. Being quite shy himself, Radar often was the object of such attentions, and he never teased the girl himself. He shook himself out of his revelry. "What does she have to do with anything?"
Mrs. O'Reilly sighed. "I don't know if I wrote you about it or not, but your brother was seeing the girl quite a bit."
"Really?" Radar said, wondering where his mother was going with this. He resumed eating. "I didn't think Randy . . .um . . . liked girls like Maryanne."
"Well, apparently, he liked her a little too much," Mrs. O'Reilly said cryptically. "She's pregnant."
Radar almost dropped his spoon back into his bowl. "She's what?" he exclaimed. He carefully set down the utensil and watched his mother carefully. "Did Randy know? You know, before he left."
Mrs. O'Reilly rose from the table and started to clear it off as she talked. "That's why he left, according to Mr. Braswell." She wiped at an imaginary spot on the table. "Actually, that's what he came by here to talk about." Yell was more likely, but she didn't dare tell him that.
Radar had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
His mother stopped what she was doing and sat down.
"Wh-what did he say?" Radar said, watching his mother closely.
She didn't dare look him in the eye. "He said if Randy wasn't here to make an honest woman out of Maryanne, then . . ." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Then, I had another son that could."
Radar stared at his mother incredulously. "Is he crazy?" he said in wonder. "He might be the town big-wig, but he can't control people's personal stuff!" He leaned back in his chair, sensing that his mother was hiding something else from him. "Ma, what else did he say?" he said, bracing himself.
"He said if Maryanne wasn't an honest woman by the end of the week, then he'd take the farm. The house, the barn, the car, the tractors, the animals, all of it."
Radar had become quite familiar with fear while in Korea. But, nothing compared to the sheer terror he felt now. "H-he can't do that. Can he?" he stammered.
His mother dried her eyes with a napkin. "You know, we're almost three months behind on our payments now. We had to mortgage it all while you were gone. Everything," she ended in a whisper. "I told him it was your decision."
Radar was in shock, and his mother's words were bouncing around in his head like ping-pong balls. He balled his fist in anger, slamming it down on the table.
"No! I won't do it!" he yelled in frustration. "He can't bully me into something like that. It's not right!" Not usually prone to such anger, he suddenly felt the urge to break something. He shoved himself away from the table and paced around the room as his mother watched him sadly. Radar suddenly stopped his pacing and faced his mother.
"What else did he say?" he growled angrily.
She swallowed hard. "He's goin' sue us for the rest we owe him after he sells everything at auction. He said he'd see us both rot in jail before he saw his daughter humiliated."
Radar's shoulder's slumped in defeat. He groped for the nearest chair and sat woodenly. Fear, anger and shame swam through his mind, but he couldn't get a good grip on any of them. He reached in his shirt pocket for a handkerchief, but instead came out with Jessie's letter.
Jessie . . .
His mother startled him by reaching out and grasping his arm, crying at her son's obvious pain. "If I could change it, I would." She blew her nose nosily on a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. Her 'mother's mind' couldn't even fathom that one of her children was going to ruin the life of the other.
Radar shoved the letter back in his pocket, heart-broken. He couldn't think about Jessie now. The thought of having to live the rest of his life without her hurt more than any pain he'd ever felt, and he'd be damned if he broke down in front of his mother.
"I'll be outside," he said roughly, grabbing his jacket and slamming the door behind him, leaving his troubled mother behind to clean up the uneaten supper.
*******************************************
Something was wrong. Jessie hadn't received any word from Radar in almost two weeks. She tried to tell herself that it was just the mail on their end, which could sometimes be sporadic at best. However, she and the rest of the camp continued to receive regular correspondence, and there was still no word from Radar.
Jessie thought about calling, but trying to get a line through to the states was near impossible, especially since Klinger hadn't quite mastered that particular duty. Instead, she waiting and worried. When those in camp asked her how Radar was doing at home, she just smiled and said just fine. But, deep inside she knew that something was wrong.
She was eating breakfast one day with Kelleye when Klinger threw a stack of mail on her table.
"Lieutenant, it seems like you have half of Texas writing to you, you know," he grumbled, handing Kelleye her mail. Jessie tried to look indifferent as she shuffled through the stack.
Near the bottom was what she had been waiting for. Trying to be discreet, she brushed all her other envelopes in a pile and tried to keep from tearing into the envelope with the Iowa postmark. Kelleye was engrossed in her own mail, so Jessie began to read.
She glanced up at her friend to find her white as a sheet. "Jess? Jess are you OK?" Kelleye asked.
Jessie didn't reply. "Umm, I'm fine, just fine," she stuttered, gathering up her mail. "Just need some fresh air."
Kelleye watched her go and tried to figure out what she would have received in the mail that would have caused such a reaction. An empty envelope had fallen to the floor, and Kelleye picked it up and saw the Iowa postmark. She watched Jessie march across the compound and wondered.
Jessie flew into her tent and slammed the door behind her, leaning heavily against it. She re-read Radar's letter in shock several times. Slowly, she slid to the floor. This had to be a nightmare. One huge nightmare.
Deep down, she knew it wasn't. He was getting married-Jessie choked when she looked at the date of the letter-he was already married! Her emotions were churning so much, that she thought she was going to be sick. The letter fluttered to the floor.
*******************************************
The day went by in a blur. Jessie managed to keep her emotions in check throughout her shift that day, but kept earning concerned comments from her co-workers. Kelleye especially seemed concerned about her and told the other nurses what had happened at breakfast. She showed them the empty envelope.
"And she wouldn't tell you what was wrong?" Bigelow said, studying the postmark.
Kelleye shook her head sadly. "I've seen wounded look better than she does now."
Stacey jumped from her cot. "Well, seems to me if she won't tell us, then we'll have to find out for ourselves."
Kelleye's eyes widened. "You mean-go through her tent?"
But, Stacey was already out the door.
The nurses barged into the Swamp. "We found this," Bigelow said, not waiting for the three doctors to comment. "Read it." The letter fluttered into Hawkeye's lap.
"Oh, so now we're snoops, are we?" Hawkeye said. "Going through peoples' private stuff?" He began to read as Kelleye explained what happened.
"Maybe breakfast made her sick," B.J. said, shrugging. He glanced over at Hawkeye, who had sat up on his cot.
"No, it's more than that," he said, thin lipped, handing the letter to B.J. He ran his hands through his hair.
B.J.'s smile faded as he read the letter to himself. "Uh-oh," he mumbled.
"What? What's going on?" Charles said, noticing his bunk mates shocked expressions.
B.J. began to read aloud:
Jess,
This is probably the hardest thing I have ever done in my whole life. I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been trying to come up with a way to tell you this that won't hurt so bad. I can't think of a good way to do it, so I'll just tell you. By the time this reaches you, I'll be married.
B.J. paused and looked up at a shocked Charles. Then, he continued.
My no-good brother managed to get the banker's daughter pregnant before he skipped town, and he says if I didn't marry her, then he'll take away everything we own and throw my mom and me in jail for the rest of what we owe. He can do it, too, because the farm is mortgaged to a hilt, and we haven't been able to make full payments in months. I have no choice.
Jess, I'm so sorry. You don't know how much I wish this had never happened. I had counted on spending the rest of my life with you. But, I guess that's not going to happen. I'll never, ever forget you, and I hope you won't forget me.
Love always,
Walter
The tent was silent.
Charles stood up and took the letter from B.J., reading it to himself. He handed it back to Kelleye. "I'd put this back where you found it if I were you."
"Why? You can tell this is tearing her up inside," Kelleye asked.
Charles wearily sat on his cot. "You don't understand. She'll tell us when she's good and ready to tell us. It would only hurt her more that you went through her things."
"So, we're just supposed to let her suffer alone?" Bigelow said, raising her voice. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard!" She looked at Hawkeye and B.J. for help. They remained silent.
"I can't believe all of you!" Bigelow said, exasperated. "She needs a friend right now, and all you're willing to do is sit around and wait." She snatched the letter from Kelleye. "Fine! I'll put it back in her tent, but I won't make any promises." She marched out of the tent, the other nurses following close behind.
Kelleye, the last one to leave, turned to the trio. "Jessie's in post-op right now," she whispered. "Thought you might want to get to her before they do." She gestured towards the two annoyed women, then followed them out the door.
Hawkeye rose from his bunk. "C'mon Beej. Let's go see if we can get her to tell us what's wrong before Attilas the Hun out there bombard her. You coming, Charles?"
Charles shook his head and resumed reading his book. "She'll tell you whenever she gets ready. I'd leave it, if I were you."
Hawkeye shrugged, brushing off his bathrobe. "Suit yourself."
"Why does it not surprise me? You never listen to a thing I say anyway." But, Charles was left talking to the swinging door.
**********************************************
They found Jessie in post-op, talking with one of the wounded. They watched her for a moment. The soldier said something, and Jessie laughed. But, the minute she turned away, all the laughter drained from her face, leaving her pale and drawn.
Hawkeye caught Margaret by the arm as she brushed by him with a chart. "Have you noticed anything strange about Jessie today?"
Margaret firmly yanked her arm out of Hawkeye's grasp and straightened her coat. She peered at Jessie thoughtfully, who was studiously checking the bandages on one of the wounded.
"She's seemed a little quiet. When I asked her what was wrong, she said she was feeling under the weather," Margaret replied. She looked at the two men. "Why?"
B.J. and Hawkeye looked at each other. "Should we tell her?" B.J. asked.
Margaret stood up to her full height. "Tell me what? Since she is one of my nurses, I think I have the right to know what is going on here!"
Hawkeye made sure Jessie was still across the room and gave her the details.
Margaret gasped. "Oh, you're kidding," she whispered. They just shook their heads sadly. "Well, I'm going to see if she's OK," Margaret said, taking a few steps in Jessie's direction.
Hawkeye grabbed her arm and hauled her backwards. "Major, you're not exactly getting the point. We don't want her to know that we know. We want her to tell us herself since we came by this knowledge by being totally unscrupulous," Hawkeye said. "You're not exactly subtle enough to handle it."
"Oh, and I suppose you two are?" Margaret said, crossing her arms. "Fine! You two handle her." She tossed her hair and walked away.
"Ready?" Hawkeye said. B.J. nodded, and they walked across the room to Jessie, who was checking an IV.
"Hey, Lieutenant, how's it goin'?" Hawkeye said cheerily.
Jessie stood and smiled wanly at the pair. "OK," she said, unconvincingly. They were standing in her way, smiling expectantly. She wondered what they were up to and narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
B.J. cleared his throat. "Just curious how things were going at home. Have some coffee with us?"
"Yeah, let's go over to the mess tent. We were wondering how things were going with you, you know your family back in Texas. Maybe how things are with Radar," Hawkeye chimed in.
They both watched her closely.
She swallowed hard. The pain she had been trying so hard to keep at bay hit her with such force that her stomach hurt. "I-I don't think I'm up to coffee right now. Maybe later," she said, trying to brush by the pair.
She was halfway across the room when Hawkeye cleared his throat. "Jess, we know about Radar."
Jessie stopped in mid-stride. What the hell? "What can you do to get some privacy around here," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. She put her hands on her hips, annoyed "Look, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't meddle."
They watched her closely. Although her tone was angry, her eyes were sad.
"Look, Jess, we just want to help. We know you must feel terrible . . ."
"Terrible?" Jessie said, trying to remember not to raise her voice. She continued in a lower tone. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help and all, but this is my business." She ignored the pair as she continued her rounds.
"Maybe old Chuckles was right," B.J. said.
**************************************
For two days, Jessie stayed to herself. Ever since the initial shock wore off, she had not cried a drop. Oh, not that she didn't hurt. Each time she thought she would have her churning emotions in check, she would turn around and something would remind her of Radar, and it was almost like a vice around her heart.
And, God, how she hated the pitying looks from everyone in camp! She worked so hard to keep on with her duties as normal that when she was finally alone in her tent, she couldn't cry then either. Time and time again, she started a letter to him, then would crumple it up in frustration. After going through an entire pad of paper, she gave up. There was no need to reply. What was done, was done.
Instead, she concentrated on putting up everything that reminded her of him. The painting from Col. Potter, the stuffed horse, the pictures, everything went into a crate and sat in the corner of her tent. Before she sealed the box, she reached for the necklace around her neck. She had not taken it off since he had given it to her months before. Before she could remove it, she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. Instead, she took a deep breath and hammered the crate closed, leaving the necklace.
She even hated looking at the crate, so she took it to Klinger to mail home.
She couldn't sleep, either. Often, she found herself at the Officer's Club late at night, sipping whatever the bartender on duty had available, which usually wasn't much.
One night, exhausted, Jessie flopped down on a stool.
Klinger, who was the bartender for the night, looked up from cleaning the bar. "Hey, kiddo!" he said, a little too brightly. He had never seen her green eyes so sad. "What'll it be?"
"Heard you got in some good whiskey. Give me a shot."
Klinger looked at her, worried. "That's a little strong, don't you think?"
"I don't need you to tell me what I can drink!" Jessie snapped back. At Klinger's hurt look, she softened. "Sorry, Max. I just haven't . . .been myself lately."
"That's OK," he replied, reaching for the bottle. He poured her a shot, which Jessie threw back.
She licked her lips, then reached for some cash, which she threw on the counter. "Leave the bottle, will you?"
Klinger looked at Jessie closely. "Look, drinking doesn't change anything. I should know!"
Jessie laughed bitterly, but didn't reply. She shoved the money towards him, and he reluctantly handed her the bottle.
She downed the bottle in two hours. What worried Klinger was it didn't even seem to affect her. She just started into space, not saying a word. He slipped out of the Officer's Club and ran to the Swamp.
Klinger startled Charles when he rushed in the door. "Sirs, I think you should come quick!" He looked around the tent. "Hey, where's B.J. and Hawkeye?"
"Surgery," Charles said. He started to make a flippant comment, but stopped when he saw Klinger was genuinely concerned. "What's wrong, Corporal?"
Klinger took a deep breath. Charles was as good as anyone. "It's Jessie. She's been in the O Club for over an hour and drank a whole bottle of whiskey."
Charles shuttered at the thought. "She's not making a scene, is she?"
Klinger shook his head. "That's the strange thing about it. She's not doing nothing but drinking. She's not talking or dancing or yelling or crying. Just drinking." He paused. "She thinks I went to get her another bottle, but I didn't think she needed it."
Charles rose wearily from the cot and put on his coat. "Look, I'll be there in a minute. Just keep her away from the booze."
"Yes, sir," Klinger said and rushed out the door.
When Charles entered the Officer's Club, he found Jessie sitting forlornly at the bar, slowly peeling the label off the empty bottle. He quietly settled on a stool next to her.
"You know, that stuff is almost as vile as the toxins my bunkmates call gin," he said, examining what was left of the label.
"Yeah, well, Klinger promised me another bottle, but I guess he got lost," Jessie said slowly, trying not to slur her words.
Charles opened his mouth to reply, but Jessie held up her hand.
"Look, Winchester, you can sit here all night if you want. But, don't talk."
They sat in silence for a moment, Jessie continuing stripping the bottle of its label. Charles reached around the counter for whatever was handy and poured himself a liberal amount in a semi-clean glass.
After Jessie had taken the label completely off the bottle, she caught sight of herself in a small mirror on the other side of the bar and almost recoiled. Great. I look pretty much how I feel. Tears came to her eyes.
Charles handed her a handkerchief, which she gladly accepted.
"You know what's funny about this whole thing?" she asked, wiping at her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Especially in front of Charles.
"I don't find anything funny about it."
Jessie blew her nose, ignoring his comment. "I came to this stupid country to get away from a guy, of all the crazy immature things to do." she said, fiddling with the handkerchief. "And now, look. I'm sitting alone in a dingy bar in a war zone crying about what? Another stupid guy. I guess I'll honestly never learn."
She unsteadily climbed off the stool. Charles reached out to help her, but she angrily brushed him off.
"I don't need your help," she growled, steadying herself on the bar. She jumped when Charles slammed his glass down on the bar. It echoed in the dim room.
"Stop being so damned prideful!"
Jessie laughed aloud scornfully. "Prideful? This coming from Sir Pompous Ass himself?" she said, eying the door.
Charles whirled her around to face him. "We're your friends, Jessamyn! We don't like to see you hurting like this. Why do you insist on keeping this to yourself?"
Jessie wriggled free of his hand firmly holding her arm. "You're one to talk about feelings, especially since you never show anything but disdain towards the rest of us!" she said coldly and managed to walk regally out the door into the cool night.
Charles followed. "All we want to do is help! All I want to do it help!"
Jessie stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face Charles. "I'm angry at this Godforsaken place," she hissed. "I'm angry at a small-town banker that has control over people he shouldn't have." She could feel the tears finally falling, and she didn't try to stop them. "I'm angry at a girl I've never met who is with the man that I was supposed to be with. And, I'm angry at him. You know, he made a noble decision, and I've still managed to be furious at him."
Charles didn't reply.
"And, my problem is all of you! You sneak around and make soothing remarks, but I don't want that! I don't want your pity or anyone else's!" She threw her hands up in the air in disgust. "God, this place is driving me nuts! First, it takes your sanity, then it takes the best feelings in the world, like hope and love, and grinds them to a pulp! And you know what that leaves me? Alone!"
Jessie choked on the last word, the tears falling in earnest. A sob caught in her throat. She rubbed her hands wearily over her eyes.
Charles stood with his hands in his pockets against the chilly night, watching her fall apart, aching to comfort her, but not sure if she would let him.
"What am I going to do, Charles?" she finished simply, answering his question. He reached out to her as the sobs began, wrapping his arms around her as she cried.
******************************
I have two endings to this thing. One of them, you're not going to like (I'm afraid), but it's the one I need to do my crossover fic later on. You'll get my drift once you start reading it. If you want the other ending, let me know, and I'll send it to you after this entire thing is posted. Also, all sorts of characters will continue to show up down the road (yes, even Frank, Trapper and even everyone's favorite CID man Flagg) Hey, and thanks for sticking around this far! – tonygirl